


Bubbles

by Star_less



Series: P.O.R.T.A.L verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Coulson Lives, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Infantilism, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Little!Loki, Little!Tony, Loki centric, Long Shot, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, Nursery setting, Omorashi, One Shot, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Platonic Relationships, Posted Elsewhere, Pouting, Temper Tantrums, alternate universe - littles are known, baby Loki, bottle feeding, bottles, bubble baths, caregiver Rhodes, caregiver coulson, caregiver thor, everybody gets along and things are fluffy and lovely, mentions of Loki’s childhood ig, set after TDW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Last time Tony had to be bathed at Portal he had to share the tub with Loki; and had returned from his afternoon session vowing to never share the tub with Loki ever again. Mind you, the little trickster wasn’t exactly fond of having to share a bath with Tony, either...After a small... accident, little Loki finds himself having to share a bath with none other than little Anthony Stark.





	Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back. This is (Little) Loki centric and it has pee in it. If you don’t like pee, click away. If you don’t like Loki and pee, weird flex but okay click away. If you don’t like Loki what sort of monster are you?!

Loki never nursed. Certainly not as a Little; it was infuriating to Thor how he could be blatantly needing a bottle of milk and yet refused it whether it turned up in a plastic child’s bottle, a beaker, a cup or a glass. Oh, it wasn’t that Loki never drank - he drank plenty when he felt in the mood to be merry - but not as a Little. Thor had lost count of how many times he had pleaded with his brother to ‘please, just try, I’m not going to poison you’ but still received nothing for his efforts. Of course, this behaviour wasn’t solely ‘fussy baby Loki’ behaviour; this had occurred all the way back when Loki was a yowling little Jotunn youngling failing to thrive. Even then he would not nurse, not from mother nor from a bottle. Mother had fretted that perhaps it was something to do with his Jotunn biology, that milk didn’t settle too well in his stomach. Thor was much too young to remember this, of course; it had been passed down the Odinson line like some teasing tale, much to Loki’s chagrin, that Loki was an awful baby who never nursed and rarely slept.  
Of course, Loki didn’t quite remember it like that.  
Oh, perfect Thor, look how he drank from his bottle so, look how he slept so sweet. Loki, why did you not nurse so? Why did you not sleep? Here Loki was, very much not an infant thankyouverymuch, and those same words came dancing back to haunt him now that he was a Little.  
“I don’t want a bottle,” he told his brother petulantly one evening after one too many pleads, folding his arms and jutting out his chin as if that’d help his case any. Thor was at a very frustrated end. Loki had been pointedly denying drinks all day and, regardless of his Jotunn blood, that was of little help to him. “Loki,” said Thor in his ‘I am beginning to tire of repeating this lecture, brother’ voice, rubbing his temples, “you are going to make yourself unwell.”  
“You are going to tire of saying that, just as I am of hearing it,” Loki shot back in a grumble.  
Thor sighed. “You are behaving like a whining infant, Loki, and I am not in the mood. I trust you are not in the mood to see my hand?”  
That little threat pulled Loki into silence - he didn’t have the gall to bite back with something sour about his little space. No. Thor’s spankings were merciless - had him a pathetic wailing mess within the first five swats. The in-limbo-Little grumbled again as he toyed with his sleeves. 

“Mother was right,” Thor announced after a few moments of silence had crawled by. “You are impossible to nurse, unless I slip mead into your bottles...” he sighed. What did Mother do in all those long nights when Loki would do nothing but refuse to feed and wail out of hunger? She must have come to some sort of solution. 

“You do not like the milk I put into your bottles?”

Loki shook his head a fraction of an inch.

“Would you prefer me to give you the milk that Mother used to nurse you on?”

The question hung in the air. Loki absorbed it slowly, then frowned. “Thor. How in Hel am I supposed to remember what Mother nursed me on.” He responded in a slow, irritated voice. Perhaps Brother had hit himself over the head thrice with Mjolnir when he got up this morning.

“You must remember, Loki.” Thor pressed. Loki sighed, and went back to toying with his sleeves. “Goats’ milk.” He said after some thought. “Goats’ milk. Sweetened with honey. I think.”

“Fine. I will get you what you want, brother.” Thor said. He swore he saw the tiniest ghost of a smile on Loki’s lips, although it was gone before he could truly make sure. What he was sure of, though, was the tiny whispered ‘thank you’ that came shortly after. He smiled fondly and patted Loki on the shoulder in way of a hug. 

Now, he had to find a goat.  
~ 

“Here,” Thor grinned, thrusting a bottle filled with milk into his little brother’s face approximately a day later. “Try this, Brother.”  
Loki whined, looking with much suspicion at his green plastic bottle filled with what looked to be the dreaded milk. What did Thor not understand about ‘I AM NOT DRINKING MILK!’? No matter how much he told Thor this, whether he said it calmly or shouted and stomped his feet, it never seemed to go through Thor’s thick skull. In fact, it only ever seemed to result in him getting three short sharp swats to the bottom and being told to change his tone. He looked down from the bottle and up at his brother, green eyes glimmering. His lip quivered. “Brother,” he whimpered, taking a leaf out of spoilt little Wanda Maximoff’s book and adopting the puppy dog eyes. “I don’t want it.”

“Try it.” Thor pressed pleadingly, holding the bottle out and shaking it slightly so the milk sloshed, warm, up the sides. Hesitantly, Loki took the bottle and stuck the nib into his mouth. The teat was awkward and heavy on his tongue initially, but slowly the little God got into a careful rhythm of suckling - and was promptly rewarded with a thin stream of warm milk with honey swirled in. _Oh..._  
It... was rather nice. He suckled again - just to make sure - swallowing another mouthful.  
And another.  
And another as he slumped lazily against his bassinet. Thor was... right. It... it really did remind him of Mama - as if he was curled up with her in the dead of night as she fed and nursed and whispered at him in an attempt to lull him to sleep. Somewhere, lost in all the suckling, Loki’s eyelids slipped shut. The bottle was drained but he kept it in a vicelike grip as he drifted off.

Thor chuckled, triumphant. “You like it, Loki?”

A very drowsy nod. Thor patted Loki’s hair, and the drowsy nod was accompanied by a drowsy smile.  
Thor tucked Loki in, but the tiny God was so close to dropping off to sleep he barely noticed. It was only when Thor was about to tiptoe out of his brother’s room that Loki whined, “Th’r...” forcing Thor to freeze and turn. 

“Yes, Loki?”

“More...”

Loki threw the bottle out of the bassinet; luckily Thor was quick enough to catch it. He sighed and nodded, making a mental note to prepare extra. Loki was going back to the PORTAL this afternoon, since Thor had Avenger duties. Perhaps Loki would quite like to take some with him... and he was sure Coulson would thank him if it kept little brother out of mayhem even for fifteen minutes...  
~

“Hello Mr. Coulson.” Loki said politely, bowing a little as he ran ahead of big brother Thor into the open doors of PORTAL. “I am here!”  
Coulson was indeed waiting there with open arms and chuckled when the little God appeared. “Yes,” he said, “I can see that. Just in time for lunch!”

“Oh!” Loki said with surprise, scrambling to sit at the dinner table. “What is it?” He kicked his legs happily, squirming in the seat, giving Coulson a butter-wouldn’t melt-in-my-mouth kind of look. “Did you hunt it yourself?”

It took all of Phil’s effort not to laugh but, aside from a squeak, he managed. “Yep.” he eventually said, popping the ‘p’, “Chicken nuggets. Hunted fresh from the supermarket.”  
Okay, that made him chuckle. “And broccoli with carrots. Do you like those?”  
Loki grimaced at this, wrinkling his nose, and both Coulson and big brother laughed at him - booming belly laughs. Unfortunately, Loki had learned that those kinds of laughs did not mean, ‘Oh yes Loki we will not poison you with the vegetables’, in fact they meant the polar opposite and the grown ups very much wanted to poison him with the vegetables and were laughing because he could not escape from being poisoned by the vegetables on account of being a small child with no knives.  
“If you eat all of your vegetables like the good boy I know you are,” Thor crooned softly, furtively, leaning into his brother as though they were sharing some sort of secret, “Maybe I can let Mr. Coulson give you extra milk.”  
Loki’s eyes glittered with interest. Brother placed the bottle of still-warm milk onto the table and smiled encouragingly as Loki reached for it, carelessly sticking the nub into his mouth and comforting himself (at the thought of being poisoned with vegetables) with a few deep suckles of milk. ‘Tell Coulson what is in your bottle, brother,’ Thor encouraged and so out the nub came. Loki looked between both grown ups. “Coulson is clever enough to know what is in my bottle,” Loki responded slowly, puzzled. Coulson chuckled, shrugging. “Nope,” he said.  
Loki ‘oh’ed. He pushed the bottle toward the elder with a soft smile. “It is milk just like Mama used to give me. Milk with honey,” he explained in an awed voice as though this was the most interesting fact Coulson would ever hear. “You should try some.” He pushed the bottle closer to the caregiver, insistent, eyes bright with an innocence that the bigger Loki didn’t necessarily have... “...maybe it’ll make you a God. Like me!”

“Maybe Coulson is already a God, little brother,” Thor teased, winking as he ruffled Loki’s hair. Loki’s mouth dropped open and his eyes sparkled with interest as he looked over at the caregiver, who nodded in a, ‘maybe I am’ kind of way.  
How interesting..! What was he the God of...? Loki’s eyes widened as he tugged on Coulson’s sleeve. “What are you the God of?”

Coulson laughed, waving goodbye to Thor and encouraging Loki to wave goodbye or put the nub of the bottle back into his mouth. “God of diapers, it feels like.” he said. Loki baulked at this idea and, horrified, his hands went towards his bum. “Not mine,” he said indignantly. “Not mine. I’m big,” he reminded, as though he had just remembered this little fact himself. Coulson nodded ever so seriously, ‘how could he forget’, and reconsidered, still with thought. “How about, ‘God of Diapers, Pull-Ups and Loki’s Bottles Of Milk?”  
Loki grinned affirmatively, chewing on the nib of his bottle. “Yes.” He said. The room fell silent then, just for a moment, for no other child had entered before it was filled with the squeaky rattles of Loki trying his damndest to entice an extra droplet of milk out of the bottle. “Coulson...? Loki asked eventually. He had given up.

“That’s, ‘God of Diapers, Pull-Ups and Loki’s Bottles Of Milk’ to you.”

“Mr. God of Milk,” Loki fumbled. “My milk is all gone.”

Coulson nodded and took the bottle. “Fine, fine.” He prepared Loki a fresh bottle of milk (while Loki sat kicking his legs and asking, ‘did you milk the goat, Mr. Coulson?’, ‘Don’t forget the honey, Mr. Coulson!’ and the like.)  
“Here,” Phil announced, “Yes I milked the goat, don’t worry.” he promised, deciding to leave out the fact that the milk had come from Walmart - Hey, close enough, right?  
Loki nodded again and stuck the nib of the bottle back into his mouth. He polished off another bottle of milk by the time Wanda, Tony, Scott and Bruce arrived and was clamouring for one all throughout lunch; which was hungrily devoured the second it was placed onto the table. He demanded a fourth just as everyone finished their lunch but Phil shook his head. “I think we should all spend some time in the playground, and your tummy might feel sore.” he explained. 

Scott overheard, jumping up and clapping. “Yeah! I wanna play outside!” he squealed. He had been eyeing up the playground ever since he had arrived for the afternoon. At the thought of having a new playmate Loki too began to smile and jumped to his feet, copying Scott. “Yes please!” He agreed, robes flapping. He had not had a proper introduction to Scott yet, although the little boy looked like fun. Scott caught Loki’s gaze and flushed, stilling. Loki did too; grasping Scott’s hands in his own and shaking them excitedly. Scott reeled back in surprise, not exactly used to a Little shaking his hand of all things. Loki on the other hand was all too used to people backing away from him. Usually they were scared. Sometimes they were disgusted. Or occasionally they preferred his big brother. Being at Portal usually made him forget about those things, since all of the Littles tended to like him, but perhaps...  
He dropped Scott’s hand, flinching back and his eyes welled with tears.

Watching the scene unfold, Coulson chuckled softly as he intervened. “Loki likes to shake hands, Scott. It’s an Asgardian thing.” He explained, gently. Scott ‘oh’ed. He took it in. Then, slowly, a smile appeared on his face. _An Asgardian thing, huh? Cool!_ “Awesome!” He said, taking Loki’s hand again. “I wanna be an Asgardian!” he told Coulson, as though the caregiver was able to scrub out the fact that Scott was from boring old America. Loki - thankfully - had dropped the pitiful wounded expression at Scott’s words. Coulson smiled pleasantly as he gathered the children. “Whatever you say, Scotty. Let’s all go outside.”  
~

Coulson didn’t mind it when the children wanted to play outside; the area was secure and he could do minimal supervision while everybody burned off their pent up steam... in other words, he was perfectly happy to settle on the nearby bench and play Candy Crush while listening to the children play in the background. According to Loki (who’s chipper voice rang clear out over the playground) the children were playing at a (Loki led) ‘game’ of warfare, especially since Scott wanted to be an Asgardian, ‘he had to practise’. It was all the young God seemed to know best. Tony had bowed out of this game, as the words ‘war’ and ‘Loki’ tended to send him plummeting into the littlest of little spaces... or at least it had today. 

“Mr. Son of Coul?” 

Coulson jumped at the voice; none too surprised to realise it was Loki, very much surprised he had appeared in front of him. Nevertheless a smile spread over his face. “Yes, Loki?”

“Anthony cannot play this game, so we are missing a soldier. Can you play?” He asked plaintively. Coulson took in his stance as he spoke and the smile turned into a frown. Though the God was standing tall in front of him, his legs were pressed together and his hands were in fists. He was mostly still, although every now and then he would sway, as though something was the matter; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. “Of course I’ll play, Loki. Would you like to take a break first?” Coulson whispered.

H- how did he figure that out? Was he magic, too? Did he have mind reading capabilities that Thor did not warn him about?  
Loki took in a sharp breath and - for a split second - very much looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. But as quick as it came the face was gone and he shook his head, grinning wildly. “No! Please, Mr. Coulson, you can be Captain America.” Loki encouraged, for he knew how much Mr. Coulson liked Captain America and the real Captain America was not here. He even did a (spot on, if Coulson must admit) impression of the guy, pulling at his temporary caregiver’s hand. Coulson was unsure but... hell, if Loki had to go that badly, he’d go.  
“Sir yes sir!” Coulson imitated, relishing the chuckle he got in return as Loki frogmarched him to the area where the rest of the Avengers were playing. 

~

“Hey, little dude,” Rhodey said cheerfully, capturing Tony’s gaze from where he was staring longingly out of the window at where the rest of the Avengers (and one fidgety little Asgardian) were playing together. “I can play with you. What do you want to play?”

A thin contented smile spread over Tony’s face as he surveyed the playroom carefully. Perhaps some painting? Or some building? Or... 

His eyes travelled to the sandbox. He smiled wider.

Rhodey’s gaze followed; he also had a smile on his face, able to read Tony’s mind exceptionally well. “You want to play in the sandbox, hm?”  
A shy nod. But Tony didn’t move.  
Rhodey watched him for a moment, then chuckled and patted his knee, rising to his feet. “I bet I can make a higher sandcastle than you,” he challenged, a glint in his eye. Tony was competitive through and through — whether big or little — especially with Rhodes, so... if he used this to his advantage...  
Sure enough, the second Rhodey looked as though he was going to hot-foot it to the sandbox Tony jumped up with a dramatic gasp. “No!” He squealed, giggling, darting over to the box and diving into it knees-first before quickly beginning to dig and scoop sand into a bucket. Rhodey crept up beside him which nearly - but not quite! - caused Tony to dissolve into quivering giggles. The two sat comfortably in the box together, digging and filling buckets almost mechanically as Rhodey kept score. “Oh,” he announced teasingly, piling bucket of sand atop bucket of sand, “My tower is bigger than yours!”  
“No!” Tony squealed, breathless with laughter as he rocked in the sandpit overcome by giggles, he launched himself on top of Rhodey’s tower in an attempt to send it tumbling to crumbled nothing. “No, no, no!”

“Hey!” Rhodey laughed, narrowly missing Tony as he launched forward. “No fair - you can’t play dirty!”  
He grabbed a fistful of Tony’s sandcastle and thrust it on his own. Fortunately Tony fell into hysterics, clawing at the castles and practically rolling around with Rhodey in the box. Rhodey could do nothing but let him get on with it until he had burned off all his steam and the giggling died down... and when he did...?

“I think you need a bath, buddy.” Rhodes laughed. The Little was absolutely covered in sand.  
It was slathered on his clothes.  
It was clinging to every knot in his hair.  
It covered his cheeks like constellations of freckles.  
Tony was pretty sure that some had landed in his pull up, too, judging by the itchiness that had infested his lower half. But it was nothing a little bit of wriggling didn’t solve. “Nope!” He insisted. Jumping out of the sandpit and shaking as though he were a wet dog, Tony managed to brush all the sand off of him. “No bath!” He announced cheerfully. Rhodey shook his head, chuckling lightly as he rose from the sandpit also and brushed the sand from his lap. No doubt Tony would be driven mad by the sand in his lap eventually... although Rhodey wasn’t quite up for a Tony tantrum this afternoon. “Alright,” he cooed, “Why don’t we play something else?”

Tony stilled, thoughtful. He cocked his head. “Like?”

Rhodey thought, then shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

Tony fidgeted. “Science,” he requested softly. Rhodey bit his lip. Usually they kept Tony well away from his workshop or any science equipment when he was feeling Little, for there was no predicting whether Tony’s state of mind was strong enough to handle the safe and careful attitude needed when dealing with anything remotely scientific. But it had been such a long time since Tony had done science, and he had been a good boy this afternoon while everyone else played outside... Rhodey’s eyes travelled to the art and craft corner, where the PVA glue lay. “Okay,” Rhodes said at last, a hand on the small of Tony’s back as he tugged the Little to the art and craft corner. “Let’s make some slime, baby.” He cooed, feeling warm when Tony’s eyes lit up.  
Good.

~

The Avengers (and their fidgeting friend) ‘played’ for about thirty solid minutes, if ‘running around and yelling and having Loki shout directions at you’ could be defined as, ‘playing’ before it was obvious that Loki’s issue was becoming a little too troubling... even for Loki himself. Loki had tried his very hardest to ignore it, too, but now... now everything felt like it hurt and he couldn’t run too fast or he felt like he really would burst. He glanced over at the open door to the nursery mid-stride, falling to a standstill to shuffle around a little. What... what was he meant to do? Something pawed in the back of his mind, the deepest, littlest part of him, to just yell that he had to pee and run off. But... this was warfare! Playtime or not, he couldn’t run off in the middle of warfare! Father had often taken Loki for ‘practice’ when he was a very young child, as war was common on Asgard and all Asgardian children were trained to pursue it. Practice was intense, rigorous, and did not stop for anything other than Father tiring of teaching Loki. Even now, Father’s voice echoed in the back of Loki’s mind. Warfare rests for nothing, Loki. Warfare rests for nothing. 

“Loki, are you okay?” The rest of the group seemed to catch on to playtime coming to a standstill; Coulson’s voice untangled Loki from getting too lost inside his own head. Wincing, Loki twisted on the spot and pried his hands away from where they had somehow gotten to between his legs. “Yes!”  
(He was very evidently not.)  
“Come on, they’re going to conquer our land!” He whined, throwing an accusatory point toward Wanda and Bruce... and with that ran (shuffled) off, forcing the game back to life before Coulson could do so much as run him to a bathroom. Loki did not mind too much, for he could simply teleport to the bathroom if it got too bad, as he had done previous.

It ‘got too bad’ approximately fifteen minutes later when all of Loki’s running about had ceased to be replaced by very forceful fidgeting with one hand clamped as tight as it would go and he drew to a standstill in a half-crouch by the slide, wincing.  
“Mr. C,” Wanda piped up cheerfully as she sped past Loki, took in his dancing... and for she loved to tease him declared, “Loki needs to tinkle.”

Everybody stopped. Everybody seemed to be staring at him. Or perhaps laughing. Loki ducked, cheeks burning scarlet (although his stance did not move any.)  
“No, I do not.” He whimpered, teeth grit. Now. Now was the time he should teleport, disappear right on the spot, but... but it was so hard to try and channel those powers when he had to go so badly. Every time he tried to think about where he should teleport more, the tickling of his lower tummy increased. Eventually Loki realised that he was, rather uselessly, repeating a mantra of, ‘bathroom, noooowww’ without moving or eliciting more than thin green sparkles in the tips of his fingers.  
He (almost) wished Coulson would pick him up and drag him there, at this point, for he would be much quicker. 

“Loki, is that true?” Coulson asked, although he already knew Loki was long, long overdue a bathroom break regardless of what the little God said. 

“No,” the God predictably spat in return, voice all tight and tense. “But I am tired of this game and would like to go inside now.”  
Coulson nodded, supposing that was the closest answer he would get to, ‘I really really need to pee’ from Loki, and drew the game to a close. “Alright, everybody. Loki’s side wins. All inside for indoor play and potty breaks.” Coulson instructed, smiling as everybody shuffled in. Loki shuffled, rather urgently, alongside Wanda. 

“Oh good,” she smiled, skipping, “I really need a potty.”

Loki wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or to Coulson, but he suspected something was wrong.  
~

They had to wait until Mr. Coulson said they could play before they started causing havoc indoors, but Loki wasn’t sure he could hang on long enough. The second he stepped foot inside he was shimmying down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him, past caring about being ashamed. Coulson watched the little God go in a protective sort of way; usually he would be gently scolding Loki for running off without permission, but the child was clearly in such a rush to get to the toilet that scolding him now would result in puddles. Wanda following him was also suspicious, but hey, if she had to go... she was big enough to go by herself.  
The red headed seven year old smirked to herself as Loki all but broke out into a sprint. “Wow, Loki,” she said in her best conversational voice, which sounded just a little theatrical— “you really have to peepee.”

The tips of her fingers glowed pink.

Loki nodded urgently, his eyes glimmeringly wet. Oh, he had to go so badly, did Wanda have to talk about it now?!

“Well, when you’re done pottying come and play with me.” Wanda cooed. Her fingers glowed a brighter pink, but Loki was much too distracted to notice. Loki nodded again, biting his lip and bouncing up and down. “Pee first,” he squeaked, letting out a sigh of relief as the young girl nodded nonchalantly and left. His hands were trembling as he reached out to push the door open

only for a fizzing pink forcefield to throw him backwards. No. No, it couldn’t be... she couldn’t have...  
Loki’s eyes welled with tears. Thrown backwards, the small mustered up every last shred of effort he had just to starve off the flutterings in his nether regions, grit his teeth, and pushed the door again.  
Thrown back a second time, Loki all but crumpled to the floor, panting. He was holding himself so tightly his hands had turned white. “Mr. Coulson,” he whimpered, looking hopelessly at the bathroom door.  
“What is it, Loki?” Mr. Coulson asked. Loki flinched, scrambling to his feet as the caregiver came to his eyeline. “The.. the door,” he said uselessly, ‘I- I can’t- you have to- I’m gonna-“ he rambled, desperately. Coulson frowned with understanding and jiggled the doorknob, finding that it indeed didn’t budge. Odd. It shouldn’t have been locked... Portal kept the bathrooms open all day long as protocol. “Nobody is in there?” He checked.  
Loki shook his head tearfully, lip quivering as he marched on the spot. “Open the door, just open it please,” he pleaded, watching the man try and try as he rocked in place. 

“Loki, I’m trying,” Coulson said patiently - but try as he might the door really did not move. “I don’t care what you do just open it!” Loki howled in return, shades of big Loki creeping into his voice. He yelled, and the room was drew into silence. He yelled, and... 

and froze, feeling warmth begin to pool in his hands and then cascade down his legs. Stunned, all Loki could do was inhale sharply and grip his thighs in a last attempt to hold it off. No. _No. This wasn’t... not here..._  
Loki’s face crumpled up and he snivelled miserably, bowing his head as the unmistakable sound of hissing filled the air before he could stop it. The hot wetness ran down his inner thighs, pooled in his socks and made his shoes squelch. He shuddered and took in a breath that may have been a cry. Yet all the small could do was watch in horror as a sizeable puddle began to creep out over the carpeted floor, flooding it an ugly shade of dark blue - still unable to believe that it. this. was happening.  
This was... humiliating. Horrifying. Just like during playtime Loki was thrown back to a distant childhood memory of being trained by his father, trained until he soaked himself like this, and the hard words and punishment that would doubtlessly come afterward. Twinges of relief crept up Loki’s spine - oh, Norns had he been holding that a long time - but still he refused to give into them. Eventually, the stream slowed down and there Loki was, stood in his puddle.

The little God sniffled in disbelief. Coulson had stood well back, silent, not interfering. Only now, when the storm had passed (so to speak) did he step in. “Loki,”  
His voice was slow and soft, like velvet. “Don’t worry. We can help you clean up.”

“Pathetic.” Loki muttered, stepping all tall-shouldered out of the puddle. His voice had changed instantly and all of the high pitched lilting littleness had gone; replaced by the cutting tone of his big self. He shook his head. “Pathetic.”

“Excuse me?” Coulson blinked, frowning, all too aware of the change in Loki’s voice but not too sure how to combat it just yet. Loki whipped around to face him and Coulson had to admit that, yes, Loki did look the tiniest bit pathetic. His face was puffy and tear stained, and his skin was a fascinating shade of blue-pink that meant a tantrum was imminent. Loki tore his gaze away and Coulson swore he saw glimmers of tears in the God’s eyes - but said nothing.  
“I am a God.” Loki muttered. “I am a Prince of Asgard. And... and...” _What sort of God was he if he was reduced to doing..._  
He caught sight of the puddle once more and his voice lost all of its fire at once, as though it’d brought him back down to reality with a swift wet bump. Coulson listened calmly to this, nodded, but shrugged. “Yes. All true. Doesn’t matter.” He shot back. “Loki. This place doesn’t care if you’re a God, a Prince or a juggling elephant. You’re a child.”

Loki’s eyes glimmered again.

“Sometimes children do these things.” Coulson shrugged. “We can clear everything up no problem.”  
He placed his hand on Loki’s shoulder, squeezed — but Loki snarled and ripped it away. “Don’t touch me,” the God hissed, shaking his head. “I don’t need your help. I am not the defenceless infant you all seem to think I am.”  
His words were slathered in scorn yet Coulson couldn’t have cared less. They seemed to be having these sorts of arguments more often recently - really, Loki was as predictable as an open book; it seemed as though whenever Loki gave into his little instincts his big side fought right back. Nevertheless... it was something they were working on.  
Coulson held his hands up in the ‘truce’ position and backed off; Loki relaxed at once. “Fine.” The caregiver responded, to which Loki gave a tiny nod of approval. “Go. Get your spare clothes. You need a bath. I’ll help.”

Loki had relaxed, but those last four words made him tense once more. “No,” he said in a low voice. “No. Not having a bath.”

“Loki, you’re soaked. You’ll get a rash.” Coulson responded quietly. “We can’t let you get a rash. You’ll hurt.”

“I am not having a bath. I don’t need your help or your pity.” Loki spat with a stomp of his foot, whimpering when his clothes squelched all soggy and something cold dribbled down his inner thighs. Coulson sighed and rubbed his temples because, with just one sentence, he wasn’t sure if he was talking to big or little Loki again. “Go and get changed.” The caregiver said sternly, feeling relief when the God submitted instantly without any more snappy remarks and shuffled meekly off to his cubbyhole where they kept his spare clothes. As the little God disappeared, Coulson turned his attention to the doorknob. Now that Loki wasn’t tearfully pawing for all of his attention, Phil had realised that the doorknob had adopted a faint pink glow which... could only mean...

Phil’s jaw set and his mouth moved into a thin line.

Wanda.

~

“You got it, kiddo, that’s right!” Rhodey praised when Tony looked unsurely at him after adding blue poster paint to their sticky-gluey mixture. “Now just stir it up!” he encouraged, chuckling when Tony gave into temptation and thrust his hands into the mixture, squeaking as he squeezed it between his fingers.  
Now that Tony was distracted, Rhodey was able to focus his attention on the other children. Luckily enough all of his and Tony’s playtime had wound down just when the rest of the children were coming back inside from their chaotic game. The caregiver just about gave Coulson a sideways glance before he was gone, sped off into the direction of the bathroom with Loki - and Wanda - in tow. Ahh.. he aimed his best knowing look into Coulson’s back, just before getting a tug to the sleeve. There, rocking on his heels, was Scott. “Mr. Rhodes, Mr. Rhodes!” Scott squealed as high octane as ever, holding a bag of Mega-Bloks aloft and jiggling it excitedly. “Can I play with the Lego?”  
“Sure thing, bud, here you go.” Rhodes opened the bag of Mega-Bloks and let the Little pour every colour of the rainbow out onto the rug. Scott sat down with a soft crinkle and was easily lost in clicking the bricks together. Minutes later, Wanda came skipping after him and decided to overtake his game, somehow wrangling the excitable Little into building a Mega-Blok mansion for her Barbie dolls.  
Loki did not appear. Tony looked around for the little God, although his attention was mostly captivated by the slime he and Rhodes had made together. The little tinkerer liked the (sometimes very rude) noises the slime made when he poked his fingers into it, and how it felt on his fingers. The slime was blue, just like his Arc Reactor. Although... Tony glanced down to where his Arc Reactor shone through his onesie, sparkling very slightly. He looked at his slime. Perhaps... perhaps his slime was not sparkly enough to be an arc reactor.  
He eyed the pots of glitter on the table and reached out, hungrily, for the bright blue tub...  
~

“Hello Anthony,” a rather glum Loki mumbled as he slid into a chair opposite the little boy, picking at some glitter on the table and trying not to quiver too much when his clothes squelched. Mr. Coulson had told him to get changed but, well... Phil Coulson was not going to tell Loki what to do as far as the God was concerned.

Tony frowned and clumsily patted Loki’s arm to cheer him up. “Loki okay?” He asked nervously. Tony was not good at cheering people up, whether he was big or whether he was little. Loki looked up, unable to hold back the tiniest of smiles at Tony patting his arm. “Loki is okay.” He nodded in an attempt to soothe the child, even if he was wet and itchy feeling and wasn’t quite sure if he was okay, or very big.  
Tony noticed that Loki was speaking in his big boy voice, so perhaps he wasn’t feeling too little right now. Nevertheless Tony nodded, showing Loki the slime he had just made.  
“Oh yes,” Loki nodded with a smile, squeezing his legs as he looked between Tony’s slime and little Tony Stark himself. He chuckled softly. “You are blue just like a frost giant, little one!”

Tony put his fingers into the slime, giggling at the sounds. “Wha’s a frost giant, Mr. Loki?”

Loki looked down again, the smile on his face morphing into something a little more embarrassed looking. He continued to pick at the glitter on the table. ‘Me,’ he pressed himself. ‘Go on. Say it. Me. That inhuman, disgusting, feeble weakling...’  
Loki swallowed the squirms of discomfort back and sighed. “You know when I... ‘have a tantrum’, as you put it?” He offered, and nodded as Tony ‘oh’ed in reply. He expected that much. He almost expected Tony to recoil in disgust; so was pleasantly surprised to find the child absolutely lighting up at the thought.  
“Cool!” Tony laughed, grabbing a fistful of blue glitter and sprinkling it over his face. “Mr. Coulson, Mr. Rhodes, look at me! I’m a frost giant!” He squealed. He had blue glitter speckles winking up from between his teeth.  
Mr. Rhodes came over to inspect the blue child, laughing softly to himself. “Oh wow, Mr. Coulson, look! Two frost giants!”  
As Tony dissolved into helpless giggles Rhodes reached out and carefully lifted the small up from under the armpits. “Come on, you,” Rhodes said affectionately as he jiggled the boy on his hip. “I think this little frost giant needs a bath.”  
As he passed, it took all of his will not to cough. It was evident that Loki hadn’t listened to Phil when he had been told to change... quite the opposite in fact. He was beginning to smell... not so pleasant, as his clothes dried out. Rhodes gave Phil a stealthy glance; one of those silent conversations the two had gotten so used to having, before he gathered Tony up and disappeared off. Coulson surveyed the room carefully. Tony had gone for his bath. Wanda and Scott were playing with the Mega-Bloks and the Barbie. Bruce was in the storybook corner. Silently, Coulson made his way over to where the dejected little God was sat at the art and craft table. 

“Loki,” Coulson whispered, crouching in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Loki said in his silkiest tone, although there was no denying the edge to his voice. He began to pick harder at the glitter smattering the table, as it distracted him from having to look Coulson in the eyes. Aside him, he could hear the caregiver sigh, and guessed that he was pissed off. “You don’t need to look after me, Phil,” he added in the clearest grown up voice he could manage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phil shaking his head.

“That’s Mr. Coulson to you.” Coulson demanded. “Please, Loki, I think it’s about time our favourite frost giant had a bath too. You haven’t changed your clothes like I asked you to.” he said, much more delicately. And oh, how it infuriated Loki. Yes! He was disobeying him! Why the gentle softly-softly bullshit? Why was he not punishing him like so many would clamour to do? But why, why, why did a tiny, tiny part of Loki knotted so far down in his DNA want Coulson to do as he was asking - lift Loki up and dunk him in the bath?! If there was one thing Loki did not do, it was listen to other people... so why...  
Loki frowned. “Why should I listen to you?” He mumbled grouchily. There was nowhere near as much venom in his voice as he had hoped - couple it with a stomp of the foot and he would look every inch a pouting toddler - but for Coulson, it was more than enough. Frowning, he grabbed Loki’s hand in his own and all but yanked him to his feet. Where was Thor when they needed him?! “You are,” Coulson grit his teeth, voice soft but by no means calm, “getting in that bath, Loki Odinson, whether you like it or not.”

“No!” Loki wailed. He clawed at Coulson as though he were a feral kitten about to be dropped into water, but still Coulson remained stubbornly undeterred. It took Loki an embarrassing amount of time to realise that they were in the large bathroom and Tony, covered in foamy bubbles from head to toe, was staring open mouthed at him.  
Time slowed.  
Then, suddenly, it sped up again. “No!” Loki spat and cried and raged as he hit out at Coulson, unable to do anything more. His skin began to pale in favour of taking on a blue tinge, and his eyes grew red. He had grit his teeth and was panting and spitting and clawing like a wild thing and nothing seemed able to calm him.  
Nothing... except the tiniest rumble of thunder. Coulson saw it first; the split second-and-not-a-moment-more freeze in place and unsure glance before Loki went right back to his infuriated rage. The caregiver tried his best to ignore him, but all it served was for Loki to grow all the more enraged. Growling and wailing he thrashed around the floor in a wild blue blur. Then there was another grumble of thunder, slightly louder this time, and again it caused Loki’s tantrumming to cease, if just for a moment. He cowered somewhat, cowed, and glanced up at the bathroom ceiling as if big brother Thor was going to melt through it. Just when Loki was sure his brother was not going to make a reappearance - it was almost comical, in its way - he took a deep breath and went right on to tantrumming. Mr. Coulson seemed not to lift him up, so perhaps the tantrumming had worked, Loki dared himself to think. He dared himself to think just a smidgen too late, however, as with a deafeningly loud thunder crack and a boomingly stern, “Loki Odinson, are you misbehaving again?!” there appeared big brother, the God of Thunder himself. 

Instantly, Loki cowered and covered his face, tantrummy shouts trailing to an anxious whimper. “No,” he whispered, shamed, body bowed as though it would stop Thor from getting to him sooner. Thor laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of merriment or of true joy like Loki was so used to hearing; it was mirthless and empty and struck the tiniest fringes of fear into Loki’s heart. “Would you like to try again?” Thor asked, softly. Loki’s eyes glimmered but he did not speak, his lip quivering. Eventually, he pointed with great defeat toward the large bathtub that Tony was currently sat in, bubbles up to his armpits, splashing. “Bath,” he explained and there was relief to his voice as brother’s features softened to one of the utmost understanding. “Ahh,” He cooed, chuckling a low warm rumble. Loki had never enjoyed baths; once again something from the God of Mischief’s childhood had come back to haunt him. What it was no one could decipher, not mother nor father nor Thor or even Loki himself; but bathtimes seemed to bring out the Jotunn within Loki - even if he utterly understood when he was in dire need of one. “Loki,” Thor’s voice was relaxed, like melted butter, “I am sure Mr. Coulson wouldn’t give you a bath unless you were in great need of one.” He reminded. He was kneeling by that point, kneeled to meet Loki’s gaze - a rather pouty one which he was throwing at the floor - and from his position something stung his nostrils that made Thor realise that yes, little brother was in dire need of a scrub. Loki was quivering as he looked up at Thor, all shame and glossy eyed. He did not move even as Thor reached and lifted him into his arms. He did not move even as Thor tugged at his clothes. It was only when Thor lifted him up to dunk him into the bath that Loki came to— and realised the warm bubbly sensation on his legs. Bath— he was in the—  
The frown ate his face near instantly. He screamed even louder, screamed until his throat hurt, screamed and roared and kicked, his eyes full of fire and face bluer than it had ever been before. How DARE Thor trick him like this!  
He kicked bubbles and splashed and sent blueberry-scented tidal waves onto the bathroom floor; soaking the trio of adults to the knees - but, hey, he was washing... so Coulson, Thor and Rhodes were happy to suck it up. Tony didn’t seem too phased - sure, he hung back, squished against the back of the bathtub, but he was happy to ignore Loki’s tantrumming (he was used to it) and draw on the bathroom tiles with bath crayons.

Slowly, without the grown ups realising, the water began to crystallise over and ice began to form in the tub.  
Tony noticed first, beginning to whimper as the icy coldness ran up his thighs. Then his teeth chattered. Then he was overcome by shivers. “Cold!” the small wailed, hands starfished out for someone - anyone! - to scoop him up and save him. He scrambled to stand, water dripping off of his entire body, shivers wracking. “Cold, cold!” He whimpered. Rhodey’s eyes widened; he whipped Tony out of the bathtub and wrapped him in a warm fluffy towel quick as a flash. The child clung to his caregiver shivering and whimpering, soaking up all of his warmth and relishing every pat and coo Rhodes gave him.  
“Let’s get you in dry clothes, hmm?” Rhodes cooed, drifting with the quivering child out of the bathroom and leaving the tantrumming Loki alone with his big brother and Coulson.

Thor watched Rhodes leave before he turned back to Loki with a sigh. “Little brother, you made young Anthony cold with all of your tantrumming,” he scolded lightly... not that it did anything to dampen Loki’s anger. He reached out wearily and just about lifted Loki out of the bathtub, wrestling the snarling blue bundle into a large fluffy towel and swaddling him up. Again it yielded little effects - but at least Loki was quieter. Then, Thor turned to Coulson. “Thank you, Phil,” he smiled gratefully. “But I think I will relieve you of having to suffer through any more of Loki’s tantrums. Come on, Loki,” he told his snarling baby sibling, “Let us go home. I think you’re overdue a bottle of milk.”

Ah. That seemed to tap into Loki somewhat, as the snarling stopped at once and his body lay prone in his brother’s arms. Oh, how he hated it. Oh, how he wanted to wail and kick and scream and tell Thor that he was an adult and how dare Thor infantilise him so.  
But... but Thor was right. He was so tired. He did want a bottle right now.

“Okay.” Loki whispered, snivelling in defeat as the blueness of his skin began to fade away. He watched Coulson sheepishly as Thor swept out of the bathroom with him in his arms, not quite able to meet his gaze even as the caregiver waved. By the time Coulson was finished mopping up the bathroom, Loki was half asleep (and fully dressed) as he nestled into his brother’s side. “Say goodbye to Mr. Coulson, Loki,” he heard Thor instruct and, smiling, turned around. 

“G’bye,” Loki slurred drowsily, rubbing one eye with a balled up fist. “M’sorry.”

“Goodbye, Loki,” Coulson smiled, kneeled slightly to match Loki’s stance. “That’s okay. I’m going to punish Wanda later,” he promised. “Enjoy your bottle of milk, huh? I bet big brother doesn’t make them as good as I do,” he winked - and felt pride warm his stomach when Loki’s lips twitched with an amused smile.  
~

With Loki gone, the afternoon passed relatively peacefully. Wanda spent a grand total of twenty minutes in time out, pouting furiously as Scott demolished the Mega-Bloks. Bruce was happy to lie upside down in bed, hair flopping as he devoured the story of The Gruffalo. And Tony?

Tony had been unusually subdued after his not-so-warm bath with Loki earlier on. He curled up in the soft squishy story corner and stayed there. 

“Hey, kiddo...”  
Ah. That was the ever familiar, ever soft voice of no one but Steve Rogers. Tony’s eyelids fluttered as he looked at his Daddy...

and sneezed. 

Then once more.

Then once more again.

“Daddy,” Tony snivelled — once the sneezing had subsided and Steve had wiped the snot from his corneas —  
“I don’t feel well...”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcold and re-reading this makes my head hurt so if anything seems iffy (spelling!) you know why. More tomorrow :-)  
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


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